


Protected

by raven_ariana



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_ariana/pseuds/raven_ariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust is a fragile thing when you're haunted by demons that have never really left. GaaSaku AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Row-mon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Row-mon).



> I'm not quite sure about the direction this fic is going to take, but it is an AU and there will definitely be romance and drama and angst bubbling in this cauldron because that's just the way I am. I thought it would be interesting to explore the theme of trust and how fragile it can be when one is in conflict with inner demons... classic GaaSaku.

_“Holly, do you trust me?”_  
_Holly groaned. “Artemis, don’t ask me that. I just know one of your outrageous plans is coming.”_  
_“Do you trust me?”_  
_“Yes,” Holly sighed. “I do. More than anyone.”_  
**-Artemis Fowl, The Arctic Incident**  


* * *

**Him.**

_The walls were clinically, blindingly white, a stark contrast against the raging chaos of blood and anger and helplessness and constricting darkness contained within the pale, scrawny form of a four-year-old boy struggling against his restraints on an equally uncomfortable-looking bed, the only piece of furniture in the room – if the ugly metal contraption could even be termed as such._

_His red hair and pale skin were matted with sweat, his jade eyes wide and terrified, darting around the seamless, white room, watching the cold metal door to his far left with barely concealed desperation._

_**Let me out.** _

_He tried to scream for help, but his voice was a betrayal of painful, helpless silence, the result of days of no water or food, only strange liquid injections. How many days? The little boy had lost track. Father… father had abandoned him. Father had let the white coats take him away, kicking, screaming, scratching, biting – blood, blood, blood. Temari and Kanky, clutching each other and hiding around the corner, crying. They were always with each other, always afraid of Father, of him. He thought he could hear them calling his name. Why didn’t they help him?_

_**Let me out.** _

_He could feel something warm and wet streaking down his face, but everything else was paralysed. Everything else was cold, and yet something within him burned, and burned, refusing to let him shut down, forget. Forcing him to keep staring into the endless white that was suffocating and he was drowning and lost and insane, that’s what they said, the white coats and the people and Father, insane, what did it mean, children who lost their mothers and had no love, insane?_

_**Let me out.** _

_**Let me out.** _

_**I’m scared.** _

 

* * *

**Her.**

_She ran, clutching the precious bread stolen from the shabby bakery at the edge of the slums. She hadn’t been caught – no, she was too good for that – but she had encountered some of the thugs that her long-gone parents had owed money to, and the debt, apparently, was now hers. She didn’t know whether to love or hate her pink hair – matted and clogged with grime, the abominable colour was still distinguishable. And being distinguishable was the worst characteristic one could have in the brutal slums._

_They stopped pursuing her four alleys later. She assumed it was due to the considerable crowd of slum-dwellers about their daily business, blocking the narrow alleyways in such a fashion that only a small, quick child like her could pass. She had been lucky this time._

_It was only when she reached that dilapidated shack she and little Yuki called home and saw the cardboard door ripped to shreds, the crimson pool rapidly staining her dirty bare feet and her beloved little brother’s still, still form hunched over the bloody pillow under which they kept what little money they could find - that the pink-haired girl realized that she should have known, should always have known. They had stopped pursuing her to come here. Yuki had paid the price because she ran. Because he had tried to protect what little they had._

_Luck had never been on her side._

_The Sandaime Kazekage found her a month later, a tiny, seemingly broken figure hunched next to a wall by the main road near midnight. Even in the darkness her grimy pink hair was visible. He’d ordered his car to stop, personally got out and went to her._

_She was small, but her knuckles were bloody, her body a canvas of bruises and her posture was strange, a sign of a recent fight (she’d tracked them down, those thugs, faced all four of them and gave her all and it was brutal and painful and she was broken, so broken, but it gave her something to do after burying Yuki, burying everything she had ever loved in this wretched life and she had nothing, nothing left now except perhaps to sit here and die)._

_“Look up, girl.”_

_His voice was a deep baritone with an underlying rough quality, a little like the rustle of sand and wind, quiet but powerful, almost foreboding. Sakura’s young, tainted, nearly broken mind vaguely registered the fact that this man probably never had to raise his voice to garner obedience, unlike the rough men of the slums._

_She lifted her head slowly with eyes unseeing to stare right through him, untrimmed bangs falling across her eyes. The Kazekage nearly gave a start. Her emerald eyes were almost the same shade as his late wife’s, and just several shades lighter than those of his youngest (the same loss of lustre and laughter and life but he would not, would not admit that that thought crossed his mind). Not that he could provide an accurate comparison. He’d almost never looked that child in the eye._

_They were the blank eyes of one who had seen too much, lost too much, a child nearly beyond saving. But the embers of a fire this child probably no longer remembered still smouldered within their depths, a tiny spark waiting to be re-ignited. Perhaps he could save her. And in turn, perhaps she would be the one to save that child from his demons._

_“Come with me.”_

_Her eyes narrowed very slightly at his command, and she stared at him for a long moment, exuding caution, her gaze a little less blank. Good. She had self-preservation instincts, hesitance to trust. She would need those, if she were to survive Gaara._

_“Why?”_

_Her voice was rough from days of no food and little water, but did not waver. Hoarse, quiet and steady, like Karura’s in the moments before her death, through her tears and pain. The Kazekage stared at her contemplatively for a moment, knowing that his answer would determine the outcome._

_“Somebody needs you.”_

_She followed him._


	2. I : Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust is a fragile thing when you're haunted by demons that have never really left. AU, GaaSaku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness! I did not realise I hadn't uploaded it over here. Enjoy!

**_-I-_ **

**_.Target._** ****

_“You see, you closed your eyes. That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too--even when you’re in the dark. Even when you’re falling.”_ _  
_ **_―_ ** **** [ **_Mitch Albom_ ** ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2331.Mitch_Albom) **_,_ ** [ **_Tuesdays With Morrie_ ** ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1995335) 

 

“Kazekage-sama, the proposal-“

_Just shut up already._

“Gaara-sama, isn’t a whole new battle simulation facility for the ANBU’s use far too excessive? The money could be put to better use-"

_For what – for you to install a surround-sound home theatre in your already extravagantly lavish office?_

“Kazekage-sama, the new budget allocations are simply outrageous-“ 

 _Oh, bloody hell._  

Sabaku no Gaara, head of Akasuna Security Corporation, swiftly approached the ANBU’s exclusive training room doors, mentally swearing and blatantly ignoring the haggle of advisors trailing after him voicing a host of requests and complaints that were, in all honesty, causing him to entertain thoughts of opening the window and tossing them all out – regardless of the fact that this was the sixty-fourth floor and the bad publicity it would give a company that offered protection. 

But oh well. He would have to settle for the second best option. 

Turning to face his advisors slowly and deliberately, the redhead glared them into silence. His low, firm baritone echoed eerily, reinforcing his hard, jade gaze. 

“ _Later_.” 

“But – Kazekage-sama-“ 

He was through the door before the advisors could let out another squeak, slamming it in their faces before finally allowing himself to slump down against it with a sigh, loosening his tie and scrubbing his face with a palm. It had been an exhausting day. He almost missed the days when his father managed the company and he was just another bodyguard out on the field, experiencing the exhilaration and the thrill of real action instead of wasting away in his office listening to old men squabble and complain.

The redhead nearly jumped when something very, very _cold_ touched his left cheek, lashing out reflexively only to have his fist caught by a feminine yet powerful hand.

“It’s not very nice to hit someone who’s considerately offering you a drink, Gaara,” Haruno Sakura mock-reprimanded her childhood friend and boss while waving a bottle of cold spring water in his face.

“Give me a break,” Gaara grumbled, snatching the bottle from her with a barely audible word of thanks.

Sakura, long accustomed to his gruff external demeanour, remained undaunted and gracefully sank into the lotus position against the door next to him, taking a long, satisfying chug of water from her bottle.

“Any reason why we’re barricading the ANBU training room doors? Last I checked, the weather outside was lovely and Naruto and Lee were nowhere in sight,” the pink-haired ANBU Captain grinned cheerfully at her boss, while knowing full well exactly why Gaara was here and not in his office doing paperwork.

The redhead ignored her question, choosing to douse his head with the entire bottle of cold water instead. Sakura raised an eyebrow. “That was a nice suit, you know. But I guess your hair _does_ look better like this.”

Gaara’s hand reached out stealthily and gave the smiling girl one hard poke to her side – her _ticklish_ side. Her one weakness that her boys fully exploited whenever given the chance. Sakura squealed and scrambled away from him, aiming a sharp kick at his outstretched legs that missed and made her hiss in indignation. Gaara swallowed a laugh, leaning his head back against the door and closing his eyes. Sakura scooted back to his side, sticking her tongue out at him in the process but settled down comfortably anyway.

“Was a whole new battle simulation facility for ANBU’s exclusive use really necessary?” Gaara asked out of the blue, never moving an inch from his slumped position.

The pink-haired girl grinned. “Oh, actually all we need is a small upgrade for our current facilities. But I figured that since your nit-picky little board of directors was going to whittle my budget request down to the bare bones anyway, I would be better off submitting a more extravagant request so that in the end, I'd get what I wanted in the first place. And if they conceded to my extravagant request, what the hell. We get a new facility!”

“That’s pretty genius, coming from you,” Gaara cocked one eye open to glance at her.

“Hey!” Sakura retorted indignantly. 

“And if you two are done flirting in there, care to move your asses away from the door so that we can get in?” Temari’s slightly muffled but evidently amused voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, whatever naughty things you kids are planning to do in there is all on CCTV!” Kankurou’s leering voice piped up. Gaara and Sakura exchanged glances, with a note of silent understanding. Gaara carefully moved away from the door while Sakura held it closed. When they were both properly positioned, Sakura cracked a wide smile and opened the door.

“About time, I was starting to grow roots here. Why are your clothes still-“

Kankurou never finished the sentence. He found himself face-planted into the window at the opposite end of the building with a purple bruise rapidly forming on his forehead instead.

Sakura flexed her fingers. “Keep your M-rated comments for your little puppet-dolls, Kanky. FYI, Naruto probably installed CCTVs in your room too. I wonder what _naughty_ things you get around to while hiding in there.”

Temari chortled and Gaara turned around so that none of them could see the wide smile plastered across his face – a smile that disappeared the second he remembered the cameras.

Kankurou stumbled back into the training room, muttering curses under his breath while not daring to look at the pink-haired girl. Temari closed the doors and smacked him upside the back of his head to stop his string of rather rude expletives.

“Be serious, Kanky,” Temari’s big-sister tone caused the errant younger brother to sober up instantly.

Gaara turned back to face his siblings. The looks on their faces were not very promising, he decided. He angled his head sideways very slightly in a questioning gesture while looking at his elder sister. What was it that she hadn’t seen fit to bring up at the board meeting just a little while ago?

“There is something that we need to tell you, although I thought it unnecessary for the board to know,” the blonde vice-president of Akasuna admitted in response to her brother’s inquisitive stare, her features set in rare seriousness. “Shino’s intelligence unit picked up some news. 

Aburame Shino, a long-time friend, headed the intelligence unit at Akasuna, which was responsible for covert background research on their clients. It was part of the main reasons why Akasuna was so successful as a security-providing company with an impressive client base – they were always prepared for the likelihood of danger for each of their clients – and of course, all that information gave Gaara the leverage he needed with stubborn clients too caught up in their own self-importance, although the young CEO was savvy enough to act discreetly with the knowledge at hand.

“Which client?” Gaara asked calmly, moving to sit on a bench located next to the door before letting his guard down just a little, grimacing as his head throbbed. He was exhausted. It had been a long day spent in meetings and budget reviews when he would much rather had spent it sparring with Sakura or Naruto 

Kankurou waved a hand to dismiss Gaara‘s notions. “The clients are fine. We’re worried about _you_. 

Gaara frowned, feeling his headache going up a notch. Worried? About him? Those words did _not_ belong together in a sentence.

Before he could say anything, however, Sakura interjected quietly. “I think I know where you’re going with this,” she turned away from them and strode quickly across the room to retrieve a thick blue folder situated next to her duffel bag on the floor. “I meant to discuss this with you, Gaara.” 

She walked back and handed the folder over to Gaara as Temari and Kankurou clustered around their younger sibling – far, far closer than they would have when he was younger, darker. Sakura had to smile at the way the red-haired man nudged them away with his shoulders to create more space for himself – and they nudged back, sibling rivalry on a small scale. It made her heart ache, always – but no, she wouldn’t go there now. Not there.

Gaara had changed. But she would remain the only one to know that he still had the occasional nightmare that thrust him right back into his childhood before he’d met her –when his father, long grieving over his wife who had died in childbirth, threw Gaara into a mental institution for ‘therapy’ even though all his young, bewildered son had needed was love, acceptance and a proper upbringing. Gaara would wake her up in the wee hours of the morning, thrashing and screaming in his room down the corridor. Sakura, self-assigned to guard duty to ensure the Kazekage’s safety, would have to sit by him, stroking his hair to calm him down, never restraining him (it made the nightmares worse) and trying to avoid being hit or gripped anywhere near the face where it would be obvious the next day. He never woke during his episodes, falling back into deep slumber after calming down; and she never brought it up, only covering the bruises with long-sleeved shirts and trousers. She knew he probably suspected, from the way he always studied the dark circles ringing her eyes, her exhausted but falsely cheery demeanour after one of those long nights. He had told her once, very briefly, about his childhood before her, and the nightmares, but what else she knew had been gleaned from his siblings, and all she had seen and heard during her own childhood after being recruited by Gaara’s father for special training.

The sight of Temari’s blue-green ones narrowed grimly in recognition of the information in the folder snapped Sakura out of her reverie.

“It’s Akatsuki, isn’t it?” she probed for confirmation, and Temari nodded once.

The Kazekage’s frowned deepened as he glanced at his sister, and then at Sakura. Akatsuki... the name rang a bell.

Sakura gestured for him to read the information contained within the folder. “They’re a small but deadly organisation specialising in assassination that has been rising very quickly in the ranks of the underworld.”

An unwilling expert on paperwork due to his job description, Gaara skimmed through the neatly organized documents quickly. The first few pages detailed the tentative background of the group as well as their expertise and known objectives. The pages after that contained information on the organisation members and their particular skills. After that, their recent missions were listed – a slew of assassinations amongst other crimes. Sakura’s information-gathering was meticulous and detailed as always.

Kankurou voiced Gaara’s exact sentiments the younger sibling passed the file to him. “Whoa, a whole file on them, already? We only heard the news this morning!”

Sakura dismissed the praise. “When Akatsuki first emerged, I had a feeling that they would be dangerous so I asked Shikamaru to do some digging and track their activities. I also pulled up a few contacts in the underground circuit for information, and this is what we got. Akatsuki may be of the underworld, but they’re brashly confident and have made no attempt to tone down or lie low.”

“Can we get back to the original point of this discussion?” Gaara’s baritone brought them back to the actual topic at hand.

The trio were silent for a moment. Gaara decided that however annoying their prattling and teasing could get, he disliked the grim set of their expressions even more. It didn’t suit them. 

Temari was the first to speak, crossing her arms, closing her eyes, and sighing. “Shino found out that their latest commission is to assassinate you. We don’t know who employed them yet." 

Gaara raised a non-existent eyebrow, inwardly surprised that they’d be so rattled over something so trivial. He was a powerful figure, and the head of the security corporation ensuring the safety of many other powerful figures. Threats were nothing uncommon. “Yes. What else is new?” 

Sakura shook her head at him in exasperation, knowing that his nonchalance came from arrogant confidence, not prior knowledge of what they had just revealed to him. Figured. That man’s ego was beyond obese. She stalked right up to him, her petite frame no less intimidating when accompanied by that glare and tone Gaara knew all too well. “I know you think you’re pretty invincible and all, Gaara, but Akatsuki is a real threat. And you know that coming from me, it means _something_.”

The Kazekage gave her a look that clearly stated ‘ _I-don’t-like-where-this-is-going’_ , but nevertheless, she forged on relentlessly.

“They’ve come close to breaching some of our best security systems, and they’ve hurt a number of Akasuna’s agents very badly while coming after our clients – you remember Asuma was nearly killed,” she said, staring him square in the eye, her startling emerald eyes conveying her worry for him. _Damn_ it, Gaara thought. Sakura was playing dirty. She knew that he could never refuse her when she made that kind of expression.

“They’re dangerous, Gaara. And now they’ve been commissioned to come after you – which fits their agenda perfectly. If you fall, Akasuna will be in complete disarray, and that would leave our clients vulnerable to them.”

Oh _great_. Now she pulled the responsibility card on him. Sakura knew for a fact that despite his cold demeanour and his often-volatile temper, Gaara was a stickler for responsibility. He’d agreed to take up his father’s mantle, albeit reluctantly, and he’d agreed to provide protection for Akasuna’s clients. He would not renege on his promises.

Temari and Kankurou stayed silent, watching in awe. Sakura really knew how to push Gaara’s buttons. He’d crack any moment now.

Gaara let out a silent sigh of defeat. “What do you want me to do?”

Sakura smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

“Haruno Sakura, I swear I am going to kill you for this.”

The cherry blossom glanced up from the simple dinner she was serving while reading a file propped up against a jar of rice, the crease of concentration between her eyebrows smoothing out in favour of raising an eyebrow at the CEO of Akasuna. The man in question was emitting a darkly murderous aura of discontent, glaring at her from his perch by the living room window - he had been observing several black cars patrolling their condominium block, knowing that frequent reports were coming in to Sakura through the discreet earpiece fitted in her left ear (what a waste of resources and a prime example of Sakura’s paranoia, he was perfectly capable of defending himself).

Sakura personally thought that at the moment, he looked like nothing more than a child who had been denied TV privileges for the week. She merely grinned at him before plating the stir-fry vegetables and setting them on the table, and closing her file. “You could try.”

They both knew that her words had weight behind them. Gaara, undoubtedly, was a top-notch fighter, but Sakura was almost on par with him, having spent years honing her combat abilities with him and the best masters in the field at his father’s orders. But they also knew that neither of them would do anything that would bring physical harm to the other. They were simply incapable of it. He’d hurt her, once, almost killed her in their childhood in a fit of rage – and even now, the memory of it repulsed him, despite her constant insistence that it was a thing of the past, that they had been but children 

The cherry blossom noted the deepened crease in his brow and sighed inwardly, settling down at the table. She loaded Gaara’s bowl with half the plate of stir-fry vegetables, knowing his penchant to pretend any sort of greens on the table were invisible. “Stop sulking and come eat your dinner, Gaara.”

Gaara was momentarily distracted from his problems with overprotective subordinates. She was beautiful, he realised, just watching her do these little things. Not gorgeous like Shikamaru’s fiancée, the Yamanaka girl, or traditionally beautiful like that Hyuuga Naruto fancied, but just utterly beautiful to him, all the same. That she could very well kill herself trying to protect him _scared_ him, more than Akatsuki, more than all the death threats in the world combined – but he could never tell her that.

Out loud, he settled for grumbling like a petulant child while sliding into his seat opposite her at the dinner table. “I refuse to be babysat by my own subordinates.”

“It _wouldn’t_ be babysitting if you weren’t acting like such a _child_ ,” Sakura scoffed at him in exasperation, before her tone softened. “It’s not that we doubt your capabilities, Gaara. You’re important to all of us and we won’t risk your safety. Just let us ANBU do our jobs and protect you like we were meant to in the first place.”

 _But all of you are important to me too_. **_You’re_** _important to me._

“I have been managing just fine,” he mumbled, desolately prodding at the mountain of greens in his bowl with his chopsticks, knowing that he wouldn’t win this one.

“Drop it, Gaara. Eat your vegetables. I’m watching you.”

At that very moment, Sakura winced and dropped her chopsticks with a loud clatter on the table in favour of yanking her earpiece out. Even from across the table, Gaara could hear Naruto’s obnoxious voice screaming through the speakers, and a little more distantly, through the front door of his penthouse. As usual, his voice was several decibels higher than necessary. And far more cheerful than should be legal. Gaara groaned.

“SAKURA-CHYANNNNNNNNN!!!!!! LET ME IN!!!!”

To say that Sakura was fuming would be an understatement. Dropping the earpiece on the table, she strode out of the dining room towards the front door. Gaara watched in absolute fascination.

She waited until there was a pause in Naruto’s banging before opening the door, her face dead-set in a mask of fury.

“Ne, Sakura-hime…” the blonde began sheepishly, noting her expression. His survival instincts seemed to be intact, at least.

“ _Seiza_. Now." 

Years of experience with Sakura’s temper and the punishments she doled out had Naruto dropping to his knees right that instant, bowing his forehead to the floor in perfect posture (probably hammered into his head by Neji for the sake of Hinata’s reputation during Hyuuga dinners).

“And what do you have to say for yourself, Naruto.”

“Uh- um – I humbly apologise for shouting?”

“And?”

“I won’t do it again, promise!” Naruto cowered under her feral glare.

Sakura smacked him upside the head, hard. “Like hell that means anything. You’ll forget it in two minutes. Now go get your own dinner – you’re getting only one bowl of rice tonight. And no, Naruto, no ramen.”

Naruto let out a little kicked-puppy-esque whine, scampering to his feet and after Sakura, quickly shutting the door behind him. “But – I’m _hungry_.”

“Should’ve thought about that before deafening everyone on the block with your obnoxious voice.”

Gaara was trying very hard to contain a chuckle at this point, his frustrations slightly lessened by his friend’s antics. The red-haired man, however, managed to keep his composure and returned Naruto’s fairly dejected greeting with his usual nod.

Naruto plopped into the chair next to Gaara’s, after heaping as much rice as he could into his bowl, trying to make the most of his one-bowl-no-ramen quota. Sakura popped her earpiece back in and went on with her dinner, discussing various plans and schedules for Gaara’s protection while scolding Naruto for scarfing his food down and making a mess. Gaara smiled inwardly, eating his own dinner. Whatever Sakura said, Naruto would be getting an extra helping of rice anyway. She was such a mother.

He felt warm inside, watching them, watching _her_. With these two by his side, he somehow felt safe. Like he could finally begin to trust, even a little, like the world was stable and not whirling and crashing down around him in a constant, raging sandstorm as it did in his childhood. They were his friends. _Family_.

_The nightmares mean nothing. They are something of the past._

_With them, I am not afraid._

But there was also tightly coiled coldness and darkness gradually growing in a corner of his heart, pieces of his unpleasant childhood and the nightmares, always the nightmares, whispering fear and doubt.


	3. II - Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust is a fragile thing when you're haunted by demons that have never really left. AU, GaaSaku.

**_-II-_ **

**_.Nightmares._ ** ****

_Learning to trust is one of life’s most difficult tasks._

_- **Isaac Watts**_

Sakura jolted awake at the first strangled cry, a light sleeper due to her training and years of being with an emotionally volatile Gaara. She slid out of bed in one fluid motion, padding quickly and quietly into the red-head’s room down the hall – the door never locked by some unspoken agreement between them.

The scene before her, however familiar, still made Sakura hurt on his behalf. The man was thrashing on the bed, whimpering, tangling himself in the sheets – his duvet having been flung clear across the room by his kicking. The thin fabric wound around his legs and torso due to his thrashing only served to restrict his movements, further terrifying his subconscious fear of being trapped, worsening his nightmare. The cherry blossom moved quietly towards the bed, quickly untangling the mess of limbs and sheets with practiced ease, pulling it out of the way as much as she could. She barely dodged a kick to the face, and felt it graze the side of her head painfully. That would bruise, but no matter. Gaara had stopped thrashing once he was no longer entangled, but he was now shivering and breathing hard 

“Don’t… don’t leave me here! Let… let me out… _please_!”

Sakura’s frame trembled at the piteous, pleading voice that escaped the unconscious man as she sat on the bed, a soothing hand running across his feverish brow and the side of his face as her other hand reached for his. Her gesture was reciprocated with a crushing grip seeking comfort and reassurance. Sakura was pretty sure she heard something crack, but she did not pull away. She couldn’t.

“I don’t want to sleep! Don’t make me sleep – don’t – it’s all dark – _don’t_ –“

“Shhh,” she fought not to let her voice crack. “Gaara, it’s okay. I’m here. Even if it’s dark, I’m here,” Sakura tried to squeeze back using her currently crushed hand, hoping he could feel it. Her other hand reached out to smooth his matted red hair away from his forehead, the way she used to comfort Yuki when he was sick with fever. “It’s okay. You can sleep. _It’s okay to fall asleep._ ”

She didn’t quite know what made her do it, but the cherry blossom found herself leaning over Gaara’s sweat-slicked, pained face to plant a feather-light kiss on his forehead. Dazed by her own boldness, she didn’t even realise until moments later how the red-head had calmed instantly, gradually settling down into what she could only hope was dreamless sleep 

His hand still grasped hers tightly, as if holding her to her promise to be there. Quietly contemplative about this possible new facet to their relationship that she’d just discovered, Sakura reached out tentatively with her free hand to pull the bunched sheets over Gaara’s sleeping form. Sighing, she tucked her legs under her, leaning against the headboard, and prepared herself for another long night.

 

* * *

 

_“Bring the child to me.”_

_Eleven-year-old Sakura perched carefully on the edge of the too-soft leather couch, trying not to let her bewilderment show as the Yondaime Kazekage – the man who had taken her off the streets – gave out orders to several men in crisp suits in his spacious office. She had been brought here after being scrubbed clean by a swarm of uniformed women, tucked into a clean shirt and loose shorts, with her hair raked into obedience – cleaned and smoothed out, the pink was even more eye-catching._

_Sakura itched in her own skin. She was too clean, her clothes were too new. This place, several dozen stories above the slums she had grown up in, was too polished, with its sleek furniture and unblemished walls, its smooth-mannered people. She couldn’t decide if she should stay, or run. The bed she had been given last night, in the house larger than anything she had ever seen, had been softer than a cloud, but she had felt just as empty lying there as she had sleeping on the streets. There was nothing left for her._

_Before she could decide, however, red caught her eye. Dusky, yet intense, red that stood out starkly in this monochromatic world, red that belonged to a pale boy in a white shirt and tweed shorts. The boy had been brought in by a silver-haired man with an eyepatch, and was standing very still before the large, imposing desk that the Kazekage sat behind._

_Perhaps it was his stillness that made the Kazekage’s eyes gloss over him without acknowledgement. He merely turned his head toward Sakura and motioned her over with a slight nod. Sakura moved, automatically, and somehow found herself facing the boy instead of the Kazekage, staring into dull jade eyes that made her body still and her heart leap. A kindred soul. The Kazekage’s voice barely pierced her stupor._

_“This is Gaara, and you will be his friend.”_

_It was not until later that Sakura had learnt that Gaara was his son._

* * *

 

His temper had been growing increasingly volatile over the past three months. Between the infuriating old geezers, the piles of paperwork he had to wade through to get to his desk, Akatsuki’s not making a move and Sakura’s increasingly insistent protectiveness, Gaara’s patience was stretched dangerously thin. The nightmares were growing more frequent (although they felt shorter than they used to be) –but he would not admit that the threat of Akatsuki was dredging up memories he had long buried under intense training and work, and thought he had overcome.

And Sakura, that infuriating, stubborn, stupidly overprotective woman. He was irritated with her, with the patrol cars surrounding his condominium block, the ANBU guards following him _everywhere_ , as if making a mockery of his capabilities. Yet, through all that irritation, he still noticed that she always seemed tired lately, juggling her duties at the office, protecting him, overseeing recruit training, and then going home to housekeeping and cooking for both of them – refusing to hire external services for fear that Akatsuki might find a way to infiltrate those, too. His annoyed self thought her borderline paranoid but a smaller voice in his head conceded that every decision she made had rational reasons behind it.

That didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it though. As Gaara’s temper grew shorter, his obstinacy grew stronger, and he retaliated by constantly being curt with his ANBU Captain, undermining her decisions and challenging everything she suggested or did, taking guilty pleasure in frustrating and stressing her out – feeling childish and petty. It was only fair that she suffer as he did.

Naruto had been furious at him today, after he’d adamantly refused and proceeded to mangle several of her decisions and suggestions right in front of some of the ANBU members, causing a heated argument that had resulted in her storming out of his office (and probably straight into the training room to decimate some dummies).

Somehow watching her walk away had felt very, very wrong.

He would make her rest when they got home later, he resolved. He’d do the chores she usually did – she could let him do that without worrying, at least. Maybe he’d even apologise, if he could only get the damn words past his pride and out of his mouth.

His thoughts were interrupted by their very subject knocking softly on the open door before walking in, quietly and stiffly. She did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to bow low. Gaara hated himself.

“The car is ready, Kazekage-sama.”

“Sakura-“

She straightened but still did not look him in the eye or acknowledge his words, turning and angling her body towards the door instead – an indication that she was waiting for him to walk out before her like a superior usually did. Her face was blank. Gaara couldn’t actually remember the last time they’d abided by this sort of strict protocol. Their bond was stronger than that, deeper than that. Or so he had thought.

The near-apology melted on his tongue as Gaara felt his mood quickly sour. Fine. Two could play at her game. If she wanted to continue their stupid argument, and pull all this protocol crap on him, fine.

He didn’t need her forgiveness, her acknowledgement, her support, her anything.

He didn’t need _her_.

His mind whispered: _lies._

* * *

 

“ I think we picked up some unwanted guests.”

Sai’s bored monotone pierced the deathly silence that had pervaded the car since they’d left Akasuna’s HQ – Naruto still annoyed with Gaara, Gaara furious with Sakura, and Sakura just preoccupied as she always was lately. Sai himself hadn’t been too concerned about the tension flooding them, but he thought he probably ought to alert the cold-warring trio about the potential threat.

Sakura, previously occupied with shoving her chaotic emotions into the ‘pretend-they-don’t-exist’ box in her head, was interrupted by the sudden warning and glanced in the rear-view mirror for confirmation, before swearing under her breath. A sleek, black sedan with blindingly bright headlights was nearly tailgating their car 

She didn’t have to see them to know that it was Akatsuki. Gaara, lounging in the back seat with a tensed-up Naruto, looked infuriatingly unconcerned about their predicament – excited, even. She could see it in the set of his shoulders, the tiny spark in his jade eyes. Gaara _wanted_ a fight, he _wanted_ them to catch up – in his subconscious, at least, because no matter how many years he spent honing his calm, controlled façade as Akasuna’s CEO, he was a fighter by nature.

It was after rush hour, and traffic was sparse, but that meant their car was just too easy to follow. Fortunately, it also meant she had more room to try to manoeuvre them out of this situation.

“Sai, call HQ and put Kakashi and Neji on high alert and request backup – they can track us on GPS. Naruto, car description stat and relay the information to Sai.” Her voice was level, despite her tensed body and white-knuckled hands gripping the wheel – she was in ANBU Captain mode, and her boys quietly obeyed 

Sai’s voice was a rather comforting monotone in the tensed silence of the car as he received Naruto’s descriptions and relayed them to Kakashi over the car communicator. “Alright,” the dark-haired boy said as Kakashi’s voice crackled off, “I got them to send an escape vehicle too.”

“Good,” Sakura nodded firmly, her approval of his step ahead evident in her voice even as her expression set into one of determination. “Now, hold on. We’ll have to try to shake them. 

The three men grimaced and grabbed whatever support they could reach, long accustomed to Sakura’s insane driving in emergencies.

“ _I can fight_ ,” Gaara growled, itching for a brawl. Right now, he didn’t bloody care if the fights he picked were with friends or foes – as long as it was a _fight_ , to get his adrenaline surging, to vent his frustrations. “I’m not going to run and hide. 

Sakura’s expression was dark. It took a lot of patience to deal with Gaara’s infuriatingly stubborn streak, and work well under pressure at the same time – as she had learnt the hard way, over the years. “We are not having this argument, Kazekage-sama.”

“Don’t give me orders, _Haruno_.”

 _Oh. So we’re still playing that petty surname-and-rank thing?_ Sakura thought, tiredly, and didn’t bother with a retort. She didn’t have time nor energy for games anymore.

Sai chose that very moment to be an ass. “With all due respect, Kazekage-sama, do try to refrain from angering the hag while she’s operating this death-trap. Considering her driving skills are less than stellar under pressure, I don’t think she needs any more incentive to cause an accident. 

Gaara and Naruto found themselves wincing inwardly, waiting for Sai to be busted out of the front passenger side door in three… two… one.

Silence. Sakura didn’t seem to have heard Sai at all.

Gaara caught a glimpse of Sakura’s face in the rear-view mirror, and forgot his childish revenge plans. She was ashen, sweat beading upon her paper-white skin and eyes wide, darting back and forth as if on the verge of a panic breakdown. He had known her for _years_ , and had never seen her like this.

His tone changed completely – a quiet, careful murmur – as his hand twitched to reach for her shoulder.

“Sakura…?”

He was interrupted ( _always, always interrupted in these moments_ ) by Kakashi’s voice sounding over the car communicator, wavering slightly due to interference.

“ _Hime_.”

No response. Sai, Naruto and Gaara were all staring at her now. Kakashi’s voice sounded again, stronger, sterner..

“Sakura!”

The pink-haired woman seemed to jolt out of a trance, and realise that she was being spoken to. Her responding voice was strained, even though she tried to suppress its tremor. 

“Yes, Kakashi.”

“We’ve tracked you, _hime_. Backup arriving in ten minutes. Tenten has the escape vehicle. For now, keep moving.” _And don’t panic. Don’t let your past get to you._ The unspoken words hung between them, Kakashi being one of the few who knew her story. “Over and out.”

Sakura glanced at the communicator speaker, clearly understanding the reprimand and worry underlying his voice. She had never set foot in the slums since the day she left it and she was unprepared for this – the overwhelming vividness of the memories and terror that surfaced unbidden in her mind in this familiar setting.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Her distraction could kill them all. Forcing herself out of the mind of her six-year-old self and back into the frame of mind of a trained ANBU operative, Sakura took stock of her surroundings.

They were in the slums near the outskirts of the city. Their car was pushing 50 kilometres per hour, a dangerous speed on the narrow, rubbish-infested streets of the slums, but there was little she could do about that. She could see the bright, white headlights of the car behind them drawing closer and closer, and looked away when the glare burned her eyes. The indicator needle on their car fuel meter was drawing close to empty – it had been supposed to be enough for the trip home. Neji had reminded her about it that afternoon and Sakura cursed her carelessness, the oversight of the jockeys at HQ. Her stupidity in leading them _here_ , of all places. A lot could happen in ten minutes in this place. They needed a distraction.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a small explosion occurred several feet behind their car, the force of the blast rattling the car and jerking its occupants hard against their seats.

“Explosives,” Sai stated blankly, his gun out and the safety clicked off – as usual, nothing fazed him. “They really aren’t terribly subtle.”

Sakura, disoriented by the blast that had caused her head to be slammed against the headrest, set her jaw and floored the accelerator once her vision cleared, forcing herself to focus. It was just as well that their car was made for situations like these.

“Kazekage-sama, head down. Sai, Naruto, disable them!” she barked out orders while leading their pursuers in a set of complex twists and turns through the narrow alleyways of the place that she had long left behind yet remained so painfully familiar in her mind. The cherry blossom vaguely registered the sound of gunshots as Sai and Naruto leaned out of the windows to shoot at their pursuers, but everything apart from the familiar route before her and the adrenaline surging through her veins was hazy.

 _Turn left here._ An old, rusted fire escape ladder hung there, where the slum children used to play, daring each other to climb the rickety thing. She’d got to the top of that brittle thing once, after a bully had tried to beat her up for the bread she’d stolen for Yuki.

 _Two junctions on, a right turn._ Six overflowing rubbish bins lined the alley on the right, some overturned and others broken, but with the same piles of rubbish in torn plastic bags strewn around them. Sakura could remember vividly how she had combed through the trash to search for leftover food or usable items, so frequently that the overpowering stench had just stopped bothering her.

_After that red building, a left turn, keep going until you see the wire fence._

_I’m home._

She had somehow managed to lose their pursuers, and skidded to a halt several metres in front of a wire fence that spelt a dead-end. Sakura killed the engine and the lights, plunging them into grim, quiet darkness, punctuated only by their harsh breathing and the dim light of the crescent moon above them. Even then, she could _see_. There, on the wall right next to the fence, a rectangular shape where the wall was darker than the rest of the fading paint on the building. The zinc roof and haphazard cardboard walls of the shack that she had once called home were missing, probably plundered by another homeless soul looking for shelter or destroyed by weather. Even in the darkness, Sakura knew the exact spot on the ground where there would be a large, dark patch of discolouration – dried blood. Yuki had bled out, right there. She closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. This was far, far too close to home.

Shoving the tidal wave of memories back with sheer willpower, Sakura forced herself to return to the present. “Kakashi,” she spoke into the communicator, “we’re going to abandon the car. Send Tenten to Tsunade-sama’s shelter. Over." 

“Roger that. Be careful. Over and out.” Kakashi’s voice crackled.

Gaara, Naruto and Sai were already out of the car, weapons drawn. Sakura took a breath to steel herself, pulling out her own gun and slipping out of the car. Shaking Akatsuki off was the easy part.

Getting Gaara to leave would be the hard part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun....


End file.
